dog
Waking up was the worst part.
If he could remember the transformations, or whatever he did in his other form, Remus was sure they would be worse. But those parts were pure blank spots, gaping holes in his mind.
His body, however, remembered. And he felt it when he woke up, in his sore joints, in the pain shooting up from the bite in his hip and spreading throughout his entire body like a disease. Blood running warm and sticky down his face, in his mouth, puddling beneath his naked body. Clumps of fur clinging to his skin like stains that could never wash out. The groans and growls of pain that escaped his throat- inhuman, animal noises.
No amount of soft blankets or comforting words from Madam Pomfrey could hide the truth that those moments brought to light- that there was no Remus Lupin. The Animal didn’t live inside Remus’s body. It was Remus. It was every part of him. He could feel its instincts in his mind, its thirst for blood and flesh in his mouth, its inhuman strength in his throbbing muscles. In his hip.
He was allowed to borrow the body of Remus Lupin when the Animal had no use for it, but even on the brightest day, as far from the full moon as possible, they both knew who this body belonged to.
And in those brief moments curled up on the floor of the shack, even with his body having transformed back into its usual state, the Animal’s presence remained.
Remus had spent the day recovering in the infirmary, and now found himself lying on the infirmary bed, staring up at the familiar ceiling. The sounds of the Yule ball- cheerful music and laughter- seeped up through the floor.
He was secretly happy to be missing the whole affair. Lily and Peter, thankfully, had understood that he wouldn’t feel up to it after a full moon and promised to cover for him to the rest of their friends, specifically Sirius, who had been bothering Remus about it for some reason.
Winter holiday began tomorrow. The next morning, Remus would get up and pack his things and spend a miserable few hours on the train, and then he’d get off at King’s Cross station and hug his mum and go back to his own bed and forget about all of this until the next full moon came.
He ran a hand over his scars, crusty lines of dried blood beneath his fingertips. Usually, he hated them, but sometimes, their presence was something of a comfort. At least when people got to know him they could look at his face and understand that he acted the way he did for a reason. That he wasn’t always supposed to be like this. That he would have become someone else, until a little blonde boy was bitten on the hip and Remus Lupin went from a person to a costume, to be torn off and thrown aside under the light of the full moon.
It was his lot in life, and Remus knew there was no use lingering on it, but at times like these, alone and miserable in the aftermath of the full moon, he couldn’t help it. The unfairness was crushing.
He ruminated in his thoughts for a while, the sounds of the ball echoing past him, bitterly wishing that he was one of the students down there, who could jump and run and laugh and dance because their bodies belonged to them and nobody else.
He shut his eyes and pictured himself as one of them. What would he wear, if he were free to be whatever he wanted? What would he dance to? Who would he dance with?
He knew the answer to that one, at least.
“Hey, Remus.”
Remus’s eyes flew open, his sore muscles clenching painfully at the shock. He turned his head to find Sirius Black standing by the curtain awkwardly.
Remus pushed down the shock at seeing Sirius right as he was thinking about him and tried to tame his expression into boredom. “Hey,” he said, attempting disinterest
Sirius’s eyes flickered over Remus’s face, but tactfully didn’t acknowledge its state. “Lily and Peter said you were sick.”
“I am.”
“Okay, well, me too.”
Remus raised an eyebrow, scanning Sirius’s body skeptically. He wore a suit jacket and tie, though he’d unbuttoned the undershirt about halfway down, leaving the tie to dangle loosely around his neck. Of his jewelry, only the little silver star necklace was present. Remus found himself wondering about it again.
Still, though, his complexion was good- just as pale as normal- and his eyes were glinting cheerfully.
“Don’t look very sick to me,” Remus assessed.
“Well, I’m sick of the fucking Yule ball,” Sirius whined.
Remus blanched. “That’s not the same as being-”
“Yeah, I know, I know, I just- come on,” Sirius said. He took a step towards Remus’s bedside and beckoned. “Come on, let’s go do something.”
“You’re bloody crazy if you think I’m going any-”
“Come on, it’ll be fun!”
“Sirius,” Remus said incredulously. “No!”
Sirius’s gaze flickered downwards with a defeated sigh, and a victorious smile tugged at Remus’s lips.
“Fine,” said Sirius, marching over to Remus’s bed and plopping down by his feet. “Then I’m just going to sit here and sing, because I’m bored.”
“What do you mean you’re going to-”
“AAAAAARE you gonna take me home tonight??”
Merlin, his voice was horrendous. And loud, bouncing off the walls of the empty room and muffling the sounds from the ball. Remus clamped his hands over his ears, if only for the drama of it.
“OHHHHH down beside your red fire light!!”
A smile tugged at Remus’s lips.
“OHHHHH you gotta let it all hang out, fat-”
“Sirius!” Remus shouted, sitting up in bed and swiping at Sirius’s face in an attempt to clamp a hand over his mouth. Sirius wriggled away from his grip and jumped to his feet, laughing.
“FAT BOTTOMED-”
Remus threw the covers off and leapt to his feet, lunging towards Sirius, who jumped away with another laugh.
“Merlin, Sirius! Of all the songs you could’ve chosen?”
Thankfully, Sirius didn’t continue his screaming, instead turning to face Remus with a grin and crossed arms. “Well,” he said. “Now that you’re up, we might as well go do something.”
Remus rolled his eyes. He should have known better. He was beginning to feel that time spent with Sirius clouded his judgment.
They hadn’t spent much of it together the past few weeks, which Remus knew was his fault. He’d admit it freely, to himself at least- he liked Sirius. It was a mere, foolish fancy, not a particularly deep connection, but enough to cause trouble for both of them. Remus didn’t know if he’d call himself queer- he’d fancied girls, though he’d never kissed one before- but he’d kissed a boy and he’d liked it so he figured that was rather damning.
Just one more thing wrong with him. It was the least of his worries.
He did not, however, think that Sirius was queer, as evidenced by his relationship with Marlene. He wouldn’t call Marlene the reason that he was avoiding Sirius, but she was certainly a factor. Perhaps he was slightly embarrassed as well. He’d been the one who initiated the kiss in the first place, and sleeping with Marlene mere weeks later felt like blatant rejection.
Remus found, as he was lost in his thoughts, that Sirius had taken his arm and was now leading him down the corridors of Hogwarts. When had that happened?
“Where are we going?” Remus asked.
Sirius ignored the question, leading him silently, and inexplicably, to their poetry classroom. It was rather eerie to see it at night, the place usually so full of life now dark and empty.
“What are we doing here?” Remus asked as Sirius made for the professor’s desk, closing the door behind him.
“I wanna try out his record player,” Sirius said.
“Now?”
“When else?”
Remus took a seat at one of the front row desks, letting out a pained huff at the strain on his joints and hip.
“Which one do we listen to?”
Remus watched Sirius’s back as he scanned the available records, fighting back a smile. “Do that one,” he said, pointing to the green one titled Face the Music .
Sirius turned to face him, smiling, seemingly delighted that Remus had chimed in. “With the electric chair on it?”
“Yeah,” said Remus. “I’ve never heard it before.”
Sirius plucked it off the wall. “Of course you’d choose the scary-looking one,” he said.
Remus watched with amusement as he pulled the record out of the sleeve, staring at it like it was some foreign object, and placed it on the turntable. It took him a few moments to figure out how to get it to play, and Remus pointedly made no efforts to help.
When the needle finally dropped into the record’s groove, he smiled victoriously and walked over to plop down beside Remus as thunderous orchestral music suddenly filled the air. He glanced at Remus a few times, as if wanting him to speak.
“I’m in a really shitty mood, Sirius,” said Remus.
“Okay.”
“I’m just gonna sit here.”
“Then I’ll just fucking sit here with you.”
“Fine, then.”
After two songs of complete silence between them, Remus felt his foul mood was beginning to dissipate.
“What’s with your necklace?” he blurted.
Sirius’s gaze shot over to him, his hand raising to touch the silver star gently. “What about it?”
“You never take it off. Not even for a ball.”
Sirius shrugged, the gesture casual but his thoughtful expression suggesting something a little deeper. “It’s just very special to me,” he said softly.
Remus hummed, mildly shocked that Sirius hadn’t launched into some elaborate story about the origins of the necklace.
The next song began with a light, airy guitar riff.
“You’re sailing softly through the sun,
In a broken stone age dawn,
You fly, so high…”
The song had a dreamlike quality to it, like floating through the air. Hypnotic. Sirius swayed to the beat by his side, nodding along.
“I get a strange magic…”
Suddenly, Sirius leapt out of the chair and came to stand in front of Remus, turning on his heel to face him with stiff posture. He held a hand out, chest puffed out stiffly, looking rather ridiculous with his shirt unbuttoned and tie hanging halfway around his chest.
“Dance with me, Remus,” Sirius said poshly.
Remus shook his head, scoffing. He’d seen this one coming a mile away. “No chance.”
“Why not?” Sirius frowned.
“Because I don’t dance,” Remus said stubbornly.
“This isn’t, like, ‘Dancing Queen’ dancing, Remus. This is real dancing.”
Remus paused, sighing. Sirius’s hand was still outstretched.
“If I do it, will you never pester me about dancing again?”
“Yes!”
Remus rolled his eyes and took Sirius’s hand, his skin soft and aristocratic beneath Remus’s callouses. He practically yanked Remus out of the chair and pulled him to the front of the room, right before the chalkboard.
“Now, put your- Remus, hold on-” Sirius huffed, seemingly already frustrated by whatever Remus was doing. He couldn’t imagine what; he was only standing there still, awaiting instruction. Sirius would make a terrible teacher.
Sirius grabbed Remus’s hand and placed it on his side, the expensive fabric of his suit jacket soft beneath Remus’s calloused palm. Sirius placed his own hand on Remus’s shoulder while Remus’s other hand hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure of where to put it.
“Okay, now take my hand like this,” Sirius said, taking Remus’s free hand in his own and holding it out by their sides. “And then we just kinda… step along with it.”
He took a small step forward to the beat. Remus followed suit until they were moving about to the slow, lazy rhythm of the song.
“Y’know, I was expecting it to be a bit more complicated than just stepping,” Remus said.
“Oh, it can be way more complicated,” Sirius said, smirking. “I was learning dances when I was a kid that would send you into cardiac arrest.”
“Oh, really?” Remus said, smiling at the thought of a posh little Sirius doing complicated slow dances.
“Yup,” Sirius chirped. “I just figured I’d go easy on you. It’s your first dancing experience, after all.”
“How very considerate of you,” said Remus.
“If you’re up for a challenge,” Sirius added. “You could always spin me.”
“How the hell do I do that?”
“You just lift up your arm and I spin underneath it.”
Remus glanced down at his arms, one trapped in Sirius’s grip, the other attached firmly to his waist. He didn’t even know which one he was supposed to lift. “I think I’ll stick to this,” he said.
“Ugh,” Sirius groaned, dipping his head so his forehead brushed briefly against Remus’s shoulder before he lifted it back up, closer than he’d been before, their height difference putting his eyes right in line with Remus’s cheeks. He could practically feel his gaze roving over the fresh scratches. Too close, Remus thought. He cleared his throat loudly, and Sirius’s gaze leapt up to meet his eyes, black eyelashes fanned out over his silver irises.
“What would Marlene think about us dancing like this?” Remus blurted, feeling rather bold.
Sirius paused, thrown off his rhythm for only a moment before he returned to his easy swaying. “She wouldn’t be bothered,” he said smoothly.
“Really? Seemed like you two were doing more than just sharing a cigarette that night,” Remus said.
Sirius hummed thoughtfully. “We were. But it was a mistake. We both thought so, after.”
“Yes, I’m sure you thought so,” said Remus. “And I’m sure you’ll think so next time, too.”
Sirius frowned. “There won’t be a next time,” he said defensively.
“I’m sure that’s what you said last time.”
Remus’s assumption had been dead on, judging from the look on Sirius’s face.
“It’s alright, Sirius,” Remus said. “You two seem…” good for each other would be a lie. “...very similar.” was what he settled on.
“Yeah,” said Sirius. “Yeah, we are.”
Remus paused uncertainly.
“Got a strange magic…”
“I’ve been a proper git to you recently,” Remus admitted suddenly. “I’m sorry. It was stupid, but I guess I took it personally because of…” he paused, hesitant to say it out loud. Neither of them had, yet. “...because of what happened on your birthday.”
Sirius’s eyes widened at the acknowledgment, gaze flickering to the floor and color flushed into his pale cheeks. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “I get why you would… y’know, feel that way. After what happened. It really was a mistake. Me and Marlene, I mean. I know I keep saying it, but…” he trailed off uncertainly, seeming nervous. He still refused to meet Remus’s eyes.
“It’s okay, Sirius,” Remus said. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me.”
“I know, I know,” said Sirius. “I don’t apologize for being myself,” he added stiffly, as if he was quoting something.
“Er- yeah, sure,” said Remus.
Sirius continued to stare at the floor before drawing in a deep breath and meeting Remus’s gaze with stern, determined eyes. “Remus,” he said. “I should… I should tell you something.”
“I get a strange magic…”
“I-” Sirius squirmed under Remus’s gaze. “I, er… fuck. Fuck.”
He leaned forward and thumped his head against Remus’s chest.
“Oh, what a strange magic…”
“Er… you alright?” Remus asked, still swaying hesitantly to the music.
“Yup. Fine,” said Sirius. “Just fine.”
His voice was strained, tight, like he was nervous. Remus frowned at the sound of it.
“Oh it’s a strange magic…”
The next words came out muffled, barely discernible through the fabric of Remus’s jumper.
“I just… sometimes I wish you were a girl.”
Remus stilled.
“...but then I also don’t, because then you wouldn’t be you.” Sirius continued. “And I just… I don’t know.”
Remus didn’t speak.
“Got a strange magic…”
Sirius retreated from the jumper to look back up at Remus hesitantly, worrying his lip between his teeth. “What… er… how does that make you feel?”
They had stilled into an awkward position, hands still poised to dance, but they only stood there straight, unmoving as the dreamy music floated around them.
Remus studied Sirius, rather shamelessly. It didn’t matter anymore, he supposed. Whatever this was between them, Sirius had just put it out in the open.
He was really brave, Remus thought. Whatever he’d felt for Sirius, he prepared to set it aside and push it down for the rest of his life, and here was Sirius, speaking it outright, looking right up at Remus with an unflinching gaze. Nobody had ever looked at him like that before. No one had ever felt something for him before. And for whatever reason, Sirius Black, the most popular Gryffindor, the fittest boy at school, the boy who could have any girl he’d ever want or need, seemed to feel something for Remus.
He didn’t know what to do with that. Or what to feel about it. All he knew was that he wanted to take Sirius’s face in his hands and study every inch of it until it was a permanent fixture in his memory.
He didn’t. Instead, he lifted his other hand and spun Sirius around.
Sirius let out a startled laugh as he spun, coming to a stumbling stop when he faced Remus again and throwing both hands on top of Remus’s shoulders, grinning. The sight of his smile, the little crooked tooth, eased Remus’s nerves. His other hand, without Sirius’s hand to grasp, came to rest against his other hip.
Sirius’s grin faded after a moment, anxiety returning to his expression.
Remus tried for a reassuring smile, but wasn’t sure if he pulled it off. He was too troubled himself.
“I… Sirius,” he said, sighing. “I don’t know what to feel.”
“Oh,” Sirius said softly, gaze flickering down to his shoes, and by almost instinct, Remus’s hand shot up to take his jaw and tilt it back up to face him, holding it like fragile china.
Sirius let out a little breath as he looked back up at Remus, close enough that Remus felt the air brush against the raw skin of his face.
Remus had no clue what to call this, whatever he was feeling. He didn’t know how to define it- it was deeper than a passing fancy. But he knew for absolute certain that Sirius Black was the most beautiful boy in the world, and he was standing right here in front of him, and Remus just wanted to grab him and feel every part of his body, become a part of his body.
He brushed a thumb over Sirius’s cheek, just to feel the soft, smooth skin underneath his callous, softer than Sirius’s hand. There was a chill on his shoulder as Sirius’s hand relocated to grip Remus’s arm, right at the wrist where it held his jaw. Not pulling it away, just sitting there lightly, as if afraid to make any further movements.
“Remus,” Sirius whispered, through parted lips, his breath brushing lightly against Remus’s neck. Remus shivered at the sound of his name on Sirius’s lips, all of the feeling he was able to pack into one simple name- the reverence of a prayer and the passion of a curse.
His silver eyes were locked in Remus’s, his lips still parted. An open invitation.
Remus allowed his gaze to flicker down to his mouth, inching forward-
His hip exploded in pain.
“Fuck!” Remus shouted.
His hand flew to his side and he stumbled, grabbing for the nearest desk to steady himself, the room suddenly lurching beneath his feet, Sirius’s voice and the soft music turning instantly into a disorienting ring in his ears.
Remus allowed the soft presence by his side to guide him gently into a seat, ignored the tight grip on his sleeve that remained even after he was seated. He focused instead on his breathing, in through the nose and out through the mouth, squeezing his eyes shut and letting the pain take him in waves, brief throbs that spread throughout his entire body before subsiding again. Over and over.
After some time of breathing, the throbs were weakening, and he felt slightly more oriented, enough to peel his eyes open and focus back in on the frantic voice in front of him.
“…okay, Remus? Fuck, what the fuck, are you okay? Are you-”
Remus nodded vigorously, patting Sirius’s arm, trying desperately to calm him down but not yet confident enough that he could get full words out. Sirius’s frame was still only blurry, but it seemed like some of the tension had melted from his shoulders.
Finally, when the pain had subsided to a dull throb, Remus said, breathing deeply, “It’s okay, Sirius. I’m fine. It’s okay.”
“Well, er- it doesn’t seem bloody fucking okay, Remus,” Sirius said, a tight, hysterical tinge to his tone. He was kneeling in front of Remus’s chair, looking up at him with wide eyes, face even paler than usual. “Were you actually fucking sick? Was it your side? Should I take you back to Madam Pomfrey?”
“No, no,” Remus said quickly. “It’s okay, Sirius, it’s just- it happens sometimes. Just give me a minute.”
Sirius’s gaze settled on Remus’s hip, eyes flickering back to Remus uncertainly. “Okay, but I think I should probably just-”
A stray hand was reaching for the corner of Remus’s jumper, and Remus’s mind was suddenly bombarded with panic that he was going to see it , and in a moment of pure instinct he shoved the hand away with a frantic shout of “No!”
Sirius hit the floor and scrambled backwards, one hand on the floor to support himself and the other held up in a gesture of surrender, as if to tame a frenzied animal.
Ironic , Remus thought bitterly.
The pain had subsided to its usual, manageable level, but Remus squeezed his eyes shut anyway if only so he didn’t have to look at Sirius, see the stunned, wide-eyed expression on his face. The guilt remained anyway, though, churning in his gut, far more unpleasant than any physical pain his body could throw at him.
“I’m sorry,” Sirius said, voice shaking. “Fuck, Remus, sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s alright,” Remus said quickly. “It’s alright, Sirius, I’m sorry. I overreacted.”
He forced his eyes open to look at Sirius and felt another wave of guilt at the sight. His face was drained of all color, chest heaving as if he was the one in pain. “Shit, are you okay?” he asked, frowning. He hadn’t felt himself make any contact aside from swatting his hand away. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No,” Sirius said, shaking his head rapidly. “No, no, you- you wouldn’t. You just startled me, is all.”
Remus ran his eyes over Sirius where he sat on the floor. Thankfully, it didn’t seem that Remus had hit him- no visible signs of it, at least- but it was of little reassurance. Sirius refused to meet his gaze, staring at the floor and running a shaky hand through his hair. Remus had upset him, for the millionth time, and whatever this was between them, he felt the sudden, urgent need to put a stop to it.
“Listen, Sirius,” he began. “There is- there’s something here. I don’t know what it is, but… it’s something.”
Sirius looked up from the floor, silver eyes meeting Remus’s, his cheeks flushing slightly.
“But… we can’t do anything about it. So, we’ll just… We’ll go on winter holiday, and we’ll be away from each other for a month or so, and when we get back everything will be back to normal and we can just be normal friends. We’ll forget about everything else.”
Sirius bit his lip, his gaze flickering downward before locking into Remus’s with stern determination. “I don’t want to forget.”
Remus sighed. “Sometimes we just have to do things we don’t want to do,” he said.
Sirius’s eyes darted about again. Silence hung heavy in the room. The record must have ended at some point during the chaos.
“Okay,” he said finally. “I get it.” He paused briefly, still gnawing at his lip. “Is it- is it because we’re both boys?”
Remus wanted to laugh. If only it were that simple.
Growing up, Remus’s family had owned a dog, a small beagle. It was a yappy, bothersome little thing, quick to nip at legs and shirtsleeves, leaving tiny holes in clothing and white bite marks on skin. Remus’s father had bought a special collar, meant to keep it under control. It had looked, to Remus, harmless, just a normal silver chain, but mum had yelled at father over it and refused to put it on the dog.
Later, she’d explained to Remus that it was an unusually cruel collar; when one pulled on it, the little links of the chain would dig into the dog’s skin painfully, making it cease its barking or biting or whatever misbehavior it was up to.
Remus was beginning to think of the bite mark on his hip as one of those collars. So unassuming, just a ring of raised white bumps now, but when he became too comfortable with himself- with being human- the Animal would yank on it, and he would feel the teeth sinking in once again, and he would remember who truly held the leash. What he truly was.
Whatever Sirius felt for him wasn’t real, because Remus wasn’t real. Sirius didn’t know what Remus actually was, didn’t know about the clumps of fur Remus would find stuck to his skin and his clothes, didn’t know about the scars and bite marks and constant, unending pain. He didn’t know about the blood- smeared over his naked skin the next morning, clinging to his hair in sticky clumps, the coppery taste lingering in his mouth like biting pain lingered in his hip.
And to allow any of this affection- whatever it was- to continue would be an act of pure, selfish deception. Whatever Sirius felt was under false pretenses.
If only Remus were just a boy- if only it were that simple.
But he couldn’t begin to explain any of that, and Sirius had given him a much simpler, more acceptable excuse to cling to.
“Yes,” Remus said, stern and final.
They walked back to Gryffindor’s common room in silence. The ball was winding down by now, students rushing through the hallway in messed-up formal attire, loose ties and unbuttoned shirts, high heels clutched in manicured hands while their bare fleet slapped against the floor. Girls and boys hand in hand, smiling at each other, kissing each other, snogging in corridors. He was sure Sirius recognized the irony, but neither acknowledged it.
Their friends were in the common room, crowded around the same couch as Halloween, which their group had effectively claimed as their own. Mary and Lily lounged on it, their backs against the armrests and legs tangled together over the cushions. Lily had leaned her head all the way back so it hung off the edge of the armrest, creating a red waterfall of hair that brushed against the floor. James, of course, sat as close to her as possible, cross-legged on the carpet, shirt half-unbuttoned and tie hanging loosely around his neck. Peter sat beside him.
Marlene was on the other side of the carpet, near Mary, and she was the first to notice their entrance, turning to face them with a smile. Her eyelashes were long and dark, cheeks and lips tinged pink, but aside from that her face was completely bare, a far cry from her usual dramatic makeup. Her silky dress was the same sky-blue color as her eyes, undoubtedly an intentional choice on her part, and a good one at that. It was the last thing Remus would have expected to see her wearing, and she looked horribly beautiful.
He tried not to feel anything as Sirius walked right up and practically draped himself over her, leaning into her side. She threw an arm around him, smiling, and said, “Where have you two been?”
“Oh, just around,” Sirius said casually. “I was just telling Remus that he should stop being a shut-in and come have fun with us.”
He played it up remarkably well, Remus thought, rather impressed. The rest of their friends seemed not to notice anything off about him. Marlene, of course, was the only exception. While she continued smiling at him, there was a slight furrow in her brow as her gaze flickered up to Remus, as if she could tell something was wrong.
Peter, miraculously, chose that moment to pat the spot beside him and say, “Come on, Remus.”
Remus took the spot, grateful for the distraction. The last thing he wanted to see was Marlene and Sirius all cuddled up beside him. Some song was playing, not the sort of music Remus would have expected from the group, loud violins and a crooning voice.
“Are you listening to fucking Christmas music?” Sirius groaned.
“What’s wrong with Christmas music?” Peter asked innocently.
“I fucking hate Christmas!”
“He hates Christmas,” James said simultaneously, turning to Peter.
“Wait a minute,” Sirius let out an affronted gasp. “Are you listening to Christmas music with my radio?”
Remus’s eyes were drawn to the center of the carpet, where the radio sat among the scatter of loose high heels. The group exchanged guilty, awkward looks as the song faded out.
“Prongs! Using my radio? The fucking blasphemy!”
James shrank guiltily.
Sirius untangled himself from Marlene’s grasp to reach for the center of the carpet. “That was the last fucking Christmas song that will ever be played on this radio…” his words trailed off under the opening chords of a new song.
“So this is Christmas…”
Lily let out an excited shriek and lunged off the couch for the radio, grabbing it before Sirius could and hugging it to her chest.
“Sirius Black!” she shouted. “You better not!”
“I expected better from you, Evans,” said Sirius, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. “Hand it over.”
“Just this one song, Sirius,” Lily said pleadingly, hugging the radio tighter. “It’s John Lennon!”
Remus couldn’t resist exchanging an exasperated look with Peter.
“Not this again,” Peter grumbled.
“So this is Christmas, I hope you had fun…”
“John Lennon makes Christmas songs?” James asked.
“He has one Christmas song, and it’s a good Christmas song!”
“There’s no such thing!” Sirius cried. “ Good Christmas song is an oxymoron! Hell, good Christmas is an oxymoron!”
Lily sighed in defeat, plastering on an over-dramatic sad face, and offered the radio back to Sirius. “I guess it’s your radio, so…”
“A very Merry Christmas, and a happy new year…”
Sirius stared at the offered radio as the music filled the room, conficted. Finally, he inched back towards Marlene. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Just this one song. But then we’re doing normal music.”
Lily’s face split into a wide grin. “Thanks, Sirius!” she said. She placed the radio back where it had been on the carpet and climbed back onto the couch.
“War is over, if you want it…”
Sirius, still wrapped in Marlene’s arms, was staring at the radio as if it had personally offended him, disgust palpable on his face. Remus had to admit, he was rather enjoying the song. Sirius’s hatred for Christmas must really run deep.
Peter nudged Remus’s side, drawing his gaze from Sirius. He gestured his head towards Lily, who had returned to hanging off the couch lazily, but now faced James. They were engaged in some quiet conversation, grinning at each other like a pair of lovesick teenagers. Which, Remus supposed they were.
He couldn’t stop his eyes as they flickered back over to Sirius. He was still staring at the radio, though his expression had shifted from disgust to something far more wistful, almost longing, his eyes glazed over as if he’d been transported to another place.
His gaze snapped into focus and flickered over to Remus, expression unchanged as they locked eyes, longing and wistfulness still palpable in his pale silver irises.
Sirius sought him out in the train station the next morning. Though some shameful part of Remus hated to leave Sirius, he knew that spending a month away from each other would likely be beneficial for the both of them. Remus needed some time for himself, and was desperately excited to spend time with his mother, though he didn’t yet know what to tell her about his new friends.
“Still friends, yeah?” Sirius asked hesitantly.
“Always,” said Remus.
Sirius placed a piece of ripped parchment in Remus’s hand, lingering on his palm for just a moment too long. It was the address of Potter manor. “Write to me.”
“I will,” Remus said.
There was a brief, awkward silence in which Sirius cast a glance back to James, who stood a few yards behind them, holding both of their trunks.
“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Remus said. “And happy-”
“If you tell me Happy Christmas I’m literally never speaking to you again.”
Remus huffed out a laugh. “Happy new year, then.”
Sirius smiled. “Happy new year.” There was a certain melancholy to the expression. “Bye, Remus.”
“Bye, Sirius.”
Remus’s gaze lingered on Sirius as he walked away, James throwing an arm around his shoulders as they lugged their trunks away and melted into the crowd of King’s Cross station, the parchment sitting heavy in his palm. He hadn’t yet decided if he would actually write. It may only make things worse.
Unbidden, a memory came to him. The morning after his first full moon, waking up curled up on his bedroom floor, a mouthful of gummy flesh and dog fur, choking on blood.
Remus spat onto the train platform. He’d never been fully rid of the taste.
"It will be seen no matter where
You bury it. In typhooned air
It will hang isolate and round.
Through mountain-snow, through grass, through ground
It will be seen."
- “Shame,” Marion Strobel